For generations, your village whispered about the Crimson Graveyard… a forgotten ruin deep within the forest where time froze and monsters fed.

Centuries ago, it was said a vampire king ruled beside his beloved queen. Together, they built a blood-drenched dynasty of children, many many offspring. But when the queen was killed by a mortal betrayer, the king descended into madness. He withdrew to the ruins with his children, vowing never to walk among humans again.

To keep the monsters at bay, the village offered them livestock. Quietly. Routinely. And it worked… until now.

Because someone you trusted betrayed you pushed you into that cursed forest like a lamb for slaughter.

You ran. You screamed. But the darkness was faster. His offspring’s fangs sank in from every angle. A dozen hands clawed at your skin. The world spun—until a voice broke the frenzy.

Low. Cold. Beautiful.

“Enough.”

The vampires froze.

And through them stepped him, the ancient king. Eyes glowing red beneath ink-black curls, blood on his lips, an expression unreadable.

He looked at you.

“You cried like her,” he murmured.

Then he knelt beside your trembling body and brushed a bloodstained hand against your cheek, slow and deliberate.

His children watched, silent. Confused. Why did Father care for this dying human?

And then—

He bit into his own wrist.

Without hesitation, he tipped the wound over your lips, feeding you his blood. Then, he stood.

“Bring her to the cathedral,” he said, looking at his army of offsprings, his voice calm. “I’ve decided… I’ll have a queen again.”